Difference
by Admirale
Summary: A dark future awaits Elizabeth and Will, but it's not the one everyone expected. Set just after At World's End, save one slight alteration to reopen the doors of possibility in a watery world where anything goes and anywhere is.
1. Whack a Crab

Nothing really important needs saying until I have written more, so this introduction will be as brief as possible. While I understand and appreciate the conclusion _At World's End_ provides, it leaves much to be desired and no room whatsoever to grow. I have a different future in mind for Elizabeth and William. It is hardly an alternate universe, as the reader is meant only to _disregard the killjoy final scene after the credits_: I prefer to call it simply Different. (Not to imply the story will necessarily begin precisely where the movie left off, which it does not.) I hope someone will have as much fun reading as I have writing.

Additionally, I disclaim rights to these wonderful characters. I take inspiration from whence it is given.

Oh, and if anyone can stand to give it or future parts a good beta read, I would be very grateful.

"Whack-a-Crab," revision 1.

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Elizabeth Turner knelt in the shallow saltwater and held her husband tightly. The winter sun was slowly draining from the overcast sky, and the cast of crabs behind her was growing near. Only a few precious steps still separated her from the rock-strewn shore, but when she had finally been able to make out the curves of the white beach sand, William Turner had fallen limply into the arms now tied around him, reduced to jelly by the venomous stings of its fish.

Summoning strength while he still could, he turned to face his wife. _I love you._ As she showered him with months of missed kisses, he strained to reach her ear and whispered the only thing he had ever truly known with all his being and beyond doubt. _Ever always, my Elizabeth, whatever happens, I love you_.

Despite great and long efforts to the contrary, nothing had adequately prepared them for the ordeal they were attempting to survive. A near eternity of pleading and planning had given them this one chance to reclaim their life together, to take back what the goddess Calypso had unfeelingly stolen from them.

Elizabeth was not a simple woman and would never abandon the young sea captain floundering beside her, but the clicking and crunching of crustaceans in the rapidly growing swell threatened to overwhelm her dedication with fear. After a kiss to reassure herself as much as him, she brought lean muscle to bear against the unkind force of the receding wave and stood up.

_Stay with me, Will. Stay with me and don't you dare stop and think otherwise_.

Nothing would stop her, come hell or high water—or both, as it were. Nothing, not ships or waves, not pirates or women, not captains or queens, and certainly not a misanthropic sea nymph with a subpar command of the English language and a penchant for spreading contagious doom.

She could not have wrinkled her brow any more if she had tried.

Through the corner of an eye, she glimpsed something blue and red as it scuttled between her boots. She gave the rocky sand a nervous kick, but her startled reaction only allowed Will to slip from her embrace as they staggered on toward the beach. She moved to give him a quick peck on the cheek, but was stopped in anguish as her beloved cried out and crashed into the sand. Some spiny sea creature had pierced his calf, and his nerves obligingly radiated the pain throughout his body.

But the sand! They had reached land. Too relieved to smile, she crawled another meter up the beach and turned to her side only to find herself devastatingly alone. An uncontainable surge of adrenaline sent her careening back to the water, where a pair of arms extending from the unremitting crab-filled wave had seized Will's ankles and now pulled him back to sea.

In the midst of his delirium, the captain of the _Flying Dutchman_ fought for something to hold, something he could use to anchor himself against the mad power of the ocean. His efforts went unrecompensed, and the crabs had nearly enveloped his body when Elizabeth reached him. For want of something sharp and heavy enough to crush them properly, she resorted to ripping and swatting and smashing the creatures away with her own uncompromising hands. She found his perfect hands and pulled with all the passion she could muster.

Without understanding why, she already knew in heart she would win the tugging war, and her efforts multiplied beyond their limits. Three strides to the sand faded into two strides, faded into the great One. And then nothing could prevent her, not even the dark figure of the demigoddess that had emerged from the surge.

Calypso's screams reached the rocks before her escaped servant and his daring rescuer. Unable to reach beyond the confines of her own watery prison, she angrily acknowledged her insufferable failure. The goddess ascended into the dark clouds, leaving a trail of crisp sea spray in her wake that showered the Turners in an unnatural rain that persisted and burned like unshed tears. _I shall return._ Her sugary voice echoed their trepidations and intensified the bittersweet rain.

Together at last, Elizabeth pressed herself to Will once again and listened to his beautiful heartbeat.


	2. Brack Water

Please refer to the first chapter for the boilerplate. And forgive my lack of speed; I promise an ending when the time comes. Before I continue, a special thank-you goes to the two readers who left reviews for chapter one. I appreciate your having taken the time to write me a reaction. Hope you like the next little bit as well.

"Brack Water," revision 1

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_[The day after Will leaves Elizabeth on the island in AWE.]_

No amount of imagining or restless turning could bring her where she wanted to be. Here, as it were, in this same depression of coarse sand, away from the mighty embrace of the sea and the untamable blue of the sky. The advancing cloud cooled her skin while her blood threatened to melt her from the inside out.

She could no longer separate the joy and pain of yesterday. Everything was spiraling, seemed torn together, and nothing was just for Elizabeth anymore. And maybe had never been.

She rubbed the caked salt from her eyes and fought off a teary recoating when the hollowness found her again. All the cleansing sounds and seductive paradises of the island only reminded her of the creaking wood of pirate ships and her newly sundered heart. Having given herself long ago to another, she had, for that altogether too short a time, known a full and whole existence. In brief, the lonely lover was teetering delicately between death and unstoppable frenzy.

So Jack Sparrow's welcome return aboard the _Black Pearl_ in the early afternoon sun was something of a surprise, on several levels of incongruity, to the demoralized and disheveled woman callously left behind on the island. Soon, the waves brought him close enough she could finally understand what he was yelling. She was honest enough with herself not to expect a visit, so the wind covering her face with hair could scarcely stifle a sparkling grin as she reluctantly admitted her surprise.

"Certainly not! I am not trapped here or unable to leave as I please. I simply haven't as yet made plans for my departure. There's a cave, you see, and I haven't left. . . ."

"Well if you're not coming, fine by me," the pirate dangled from his thin beard. "But it's the crew will be the most disappointed should you elect to remain queen—oh yes, my apologies—if you elect to remain King of this lovely little place, Miss Swann. I realize past experiences in the most enjoyable of company may have led you to believe otherwise, but lying here under the palms again with nothing but a bottle—"

"No." Elizabeth was shaking her head firmly at the sand.

"Right, you're absolutely right. That's _loads _of bottles, bot_tles_ I say, of rum—"

"No, stop, Jack. Me. It's Mrs. Turner from now till then, remember?"

The lopsided smirk fell limply off his face. She turned and let the wind hide her face. He quickly composed himself and absently began to bite his lip for the indiscretion. Nothing he could say would ever be enough to impress her again, much less restore her happiness.

But he'd be damned, literally, again, if he didn't try.

"Look, love, it may be I don't have what you need, but I do know with unwavering confidence, honest certainty, a stout heart . . . never mind that last. Really sorry. What I'm trying to say is that what you need will never find you here on this well-vegetated heap of sand."

She considered him carefully. For an ungovernable scoundrel, he was appreciably clean and sober. Still, he was avoiding her gaze by means of a fictitious fascination with her body on a plane just slightly lower than his vision. Even while she had already accepted his invitation inside her own mind, a well-deserved sigh brought peace to her tangled thoughts.

"I know deeply that I will find him. Don't ask me why; I barely know how. There's the horizon to consider, and I'll tear it apart before I let the sea have him. Will thinks he has ten years to serve. I have only now."

Jack recoiled slightly and replied slowly, "Then there's only one thing to do. You have to go and find the poor man."

"So tell me, Captain, where should I go?"

"Thought you'd stand there chattering about, not wearing _those_, all day long." As his smile returned, her eyebrows went up, so he tried again, differently. "I thought you'd never ask. But actually, I know a little Caribbean town formerly in the lawful reach of the East India Trading Company. And I can vouch personally for its excellent selection of boats. Perhaps you've heard something about it? Port Royal?"

Letting her crossed arms untangle, she fell into a happy hug. "Jack, thank you. For bringing the _Pearl_ here to rescue me, too. I'm sure Barbossa made everything difficult."

He winced behind his unusually kempt hair and immediately pulled away to face her. With his trademark deceptive honesty, he denied any heroism on his part.

"Matter-of-fact I've given up worrying myself about my more mutinous companions. Call it good faith. Because it's certainly nothing compared to everything. Say, don't tell me you think I'd do all this worrying just for you," he teased, drawing hints of a smile from her lips. Her cheery expression shifted to something curious as Jack suddenly bent down to the sand and picked up a tricorn hat he had not dropped.

He was motioning towards the little rowboat waiting for them as he tested on the hat. "Like I was saying, I just came for what I came for."

Elizabeth shrugged but kept her posture. "Tell me Jack, what more should I expect from you?"

"Oh. Right. Probably nothing," the pirate said sheepishly, swaying like a downtrodden drunk in the Caribbean wind who had just caught a break. "But possibly something."

Playing once more, she twisted around deliberately and began gathering up her things—among them a small wooden chest—and put on the boots he had pointed out earlier. "Whatever might that be, Jack Sparrow?"

He was beaming widely but said, "Please, darling, just get in the boat."


End file.
